Officer Exchange
by tremor3258
Summary: For ULC 19 on the Forums - Dahar Master D'ellian loses her science officer to those self-proclaimed masters of exploration, Starfleet, for a stint after the Iconian War.


"Officer Exchange"

ULC 19 entry

By tremor3258

Timeline point: After "Midnight" but before "Sunrise" ULC 19 Prompt: Officer Exchange, where a bridge officer serves in another faction.

* * *

A spider's skeleton hung in orbit over Qo'noS, trimmed in lights of welders and spacebees. Its heart, the massive disruptor lance, was already installed, a dozen spindly frames connecting it. Surrounding it was a second exoskeleton; one of the dozens of docks that made up the primary shipyards of the Empire.

Many were dark – under repair from surprise strikes during the Iconian War, but even as they were salvaged and repaired, more and more new bays were being constructed next to them. The Chancellor was determined to keep the Empire as a pillar of strength in the uncertain future, and ships based on the designs of all the Empire's major races were now being constructed at the Klingon homeworld.

 _Large_ ships, Commander Thraak noted. Even in the wonders of the modern age, the capital ships being built took time to finish – it showed the peace that had been won- no more Bird of Preys being put in the hands of young warriors and fed to the maw of endless waves of Iconian raiders. It was also a commitment that the Empire would have the organization and strength to hold up against any future threats.

He had to admit, there was a thrill of pride at seeing Gorn designs being produced here. The occupation had been so recent, though it felt like decades after all the insanity of the last few years.

"Do you like it?" came a quiet voice from behind him. "I think that one's taken – cadet branch of the House of Duras." The speaker stepped forward – green skinned like him, but that was about all the physiology they shared. Dahar Master D'ellian of the House of M'ara – still technically a general by the tabs on the shoulders of her KDF uniform, but no one wise would ever refer to her by that title again.

She pulled up a scan and nodded, explaining, "Yes - must be Duras, their fire control is House-made and a generation behind, no one else would bother." Thraak said nothing, and she cocked her head, urging, "Maybe one of those command cruisers? The waiting list isn't as long and they're more likely to see action on the frontier – the Empire needs good squadron commanders."

Thraak shifted his shoulders, the cloth material pulling differently than the KDF demi-armor. He scratched at one, rolling his shoulder. "I finally get used to KDF uniforms in time to wear something else," he said. "Ironic, I suppose." Unlike his normal duty wear, he was wearing the blue-lined dark bodysock of a Starfleet science officer, awaiting the diplomatic courier to Mars for a period of liaison.

"Your judgement has saved my life countless times. My glory has been stoked a dozen times brighter through your actions," D'ellian said neutrally. _Very_ neutrally. It was rare for one of her training to sound over-controlled, and her conscious reminder that she would not beg him tore at him, but he was firm. "But the Gorn have never been higher in the halls of the Empire, and the tales of the Iconian War may be harder to acquire. Six months from now a command may be harder to acquire, despite what my crew has done, and your own great merits."

D'ellian still wasn't sure what Thraak was looking for here. Liaison was normally an excellent way to polish credentials and showcase talents that made one a worthy command officer. But at this moment, she could simply grant it.

And Thraak had not been able to tell her, yet. The _Demonslayer_ had ended up crippled halfway through the war, after a dozen runs burning a way through for troop transports to Qo'noS, and they'd been in public barracks or allied Houses since, no where they could say was secure.

"I am happy to serve by your side, Dahar Master," Thraak rumbled. "Liaison officer is a temporary assignment, and I will be happy to return in whatever capacity you desire. K'Gan is a very talented first officer – to fight him for that would be a waste of ability." He looked towards the stars. "But in Starfleet, science officer can mean much more – there is an opportunity to learn many things while the alliance holds."

He tapped an armband, and continued, "Sixty seconds – I am sorry D'ellian, but while command under your lead would be no small thing…" he swallowed, "No small thing at all, I have older oaths to eggparents and homeworld. This may be the one time to be able to peacefully see the Federation's civilian life, and settle for sure in my heart that the Gorn's eventual place in the Empire is the best one for my people."

D'ellian closed her eyes, "I can't stand in the way of that – but six months without you will be an eternity," she said quietly. She'd long settled her allegiance to the Council as the best for the Orions – but the Gorn separatist movement was always a question in the back of the mind for any of them serving in the Empire's armed forces.

Thraak tapped his armband, "Five seconds, and it will seem like years, but I must." He continued in a slightly different tone, "Bringing home their latest techniques will surely be useful to continue refining our cloaks against all comers, Dahar Master."

D'ellian picked up smoothly, "But my House has few connections on the Federation side. I know nothing more than any other officer about the captain you have been assigned, or the ship."

"The politics of Starfleet," Thraak said, "Are more subtle than our organization, and played out more in the Council halls than the stars – I doubt any ship I assigned to will be a playing piece in their games. I'm sure there will be many interested in seeing a non-Klingon who proudly serves the Empire, and I'm sure much of what I will do will be diminishing their propaganda."

"Be sure to keep up with the security digests," she warned, playfully, artificially to Thraak's ears. "I do not want to have to disqualify my science officer, but _Demonslayer_ will be done with her rebuild and shakedown cruise by the time you are back." That was still a few months away – there was plenty to do coordinating the political opportunities, and without good privateering opportunities, House finances were better spent on those investments rather than restoring the battlecruiser. It gave time, however, for the new version of the _Mogh_ to finish their shakedowns so that _Demonslayer_ would not have to suffer the obvious first-round of inevitable issues.

"The _Kurak_ specifications are fascinating, and a tribute to the Empire's engineers," Thraak said. "I will do ready to do my duty when I return, and come back to serve at your side, Dahar Master." Thraak bowed, and D'ellian returned it.

* * *

The flight had gone well – one of the high speed courier ships with quantum slipstream endlessly shuffling diplomatic missions back and forth between the two capitals. Thraak had been sure to mess in the main hall of the small ship – and discovered that that the bureaucratic mentality was indeed apparently universal. Most of the flight were disaster relief specialists headed back from helping coordinating supplies to worlds cut off during the War, and burying the bodies.

The talk was similar to those in supply departments back home – quotas and promotions and considerations of reports and presentation. Thraak wasn't sure whether to be reassured by the similarity or worried. It was, fortunately, a brief interlude, and he spent most of the short trip reading briefing material for his position.

There'd been a brief medical check at Utopia Planitia – probably for bombs, if Thraak was any judge. He did his best to act like he didn't know his way around – the scars from the raid long ago were gone, but the layout remained the same. And then, yet another small office.

He looked around – offices seemed very important to Starfleet – the structure was definitely more monolithic than the KDF, similar to what his older siblings had said of the Gorn Hegemony in the old days. He heard the door move open – quietly, no heavily sealed grinding bulkhead, no structural members intruding on living space here.

The oddest thing was activity – Utopia Planitia was also being repaired from Iconian raids – except instead of spidery frames, fat ovals were being filled in with equipment. Starfleet had no qualms about reminding its allies it was also prepared to fulfill its obligations to defend its people. On that note, he'd looked for the new _Jupiter_ carriers Starfleet was constructing, but couldn't identify them from the other primary hulls.

"Commander Thraak?" said a small (though they all seemed to be in the Federation) female wearing a commander's rank pins and engineering colors. Thraak double-took, the woman was a Kobali, and almost as out of place as he was.

"Yes," he said, giving the Klingon-style salute. "Clan-world Viik, I was told to wait here for assignment."

She held a PADD up, offering it, which he took in a delicate claw-grip. "Yes – Commander Ten'tita, chief of engineering on the _Mutara_. Captain Vexa sends her regrets, but the port admiral called an emergency briefing, she wanted to meet her new section head."

"I understand," he said. "Are you also serving as a liaison?"

The twice-born shook her head, "Technically I'm commissioned with dual citizenship – they're not perfect over here, Commander, but they don't act ashamed of their ideals."

Thraak nodded again, more hesitantly. He saw a convert's fire clearly across the species barrier.

"If you'll follow me," she said, "We can take a shuttle so you can see your home for the next few months – I can go over some of the basics." She started walking – apparently without checking if he was following.

Thraak followed – but glanced at the door frame for confirmation. No grinding bulkhead, but force field emitters were cunningly wrought – if needed, it could stand up to heavy plasma artillery for at least a few minutes from the intelligence brief's _he'd_ seen. Not ashamed of their ideals, but there was always the claws within the courtesan's glove. It'd be good to remember.

* * *

Whatever Ten'tita's species had been, Thraak was uncertain if it needed oxygen, as she'd kept up a running commentary the whole period to the shuttlebay.

"It's really picked up here in the last month as they got the slips clear of the easy jobs, but I've had more time to look around. We were drifting near Phobos for half that time on auxiliary power – never thought I'd be happy to put my ship in the hands of a bunch of yardbirds. I'd like to think we gave a good accounting of ourselves, not up to the 106th, but damn good for such a new crew, and I'd put the survivors against anyone. We heard about the action down your way, we didn't see any ground-side except for some boarders."

"Survivors?" Thraak broke in, "I'm sorry – the mission profile indicated you were undergoing repairs and your science officer was on a training mission."

"Oh," Ten'tita said, "Yeah we'd taken fire near the bridge – solar portal at close range, and too much ionic interference to get away on impulse. Radiated most of the secondary hull, we had to eject the weapon pod – I was in impulse control, so… ta-da, got to move up in rank, the chief was trying to save the bridge… and she got the XO slot." She shrugged, "We didn't lose the warp core, so we did pretty well, I think, and brought three hundred back. And we got half the transports through."

"My condolences, on your loss," Thraak said uneasily.

"We got off light," Ten'tita replied simply. There was nothing to be added to that.

Ten'tita switched topics, "But, there were plenty of escape pods to pick from – so we've got survivors from other class ships, and even got some of the new upgrades. So – you ever run up against a _Nebula_ before? They got put on a lot of the anti-privateering squadrons."

Thraak flashed back, briefly, to a small bird of prey, far outdated, hidden in the lee of an asteroid as tachyons washed the air around them. "Some brief encounters," he allowed. "This was before Task Force Omega, so some of our cloaking device's latest tricks hadn't been released yet – early enough in the war we still had an edge there."

"Well, they've gotten some of all the engineering from the last couple years finally out of the prototyping stage and where it's stable enough for replicated parts in the field, instead of needing a genius specialist team. All those fiddly little Dyson and Borg improvements to up the skinfield and improve our power generation, so specs are increased across the board – we're rewriting the manual on most of the old ships." She glanced at him, "Saw your service jacket though – this is a step down for you, right?"

"Prototype equipment sometimes cutting edge bugs," Thraak assured her. "I've only been serving on a new-model ship for a few years. And even with replicators, it's been very difficult on our logistics to maintain the prototype ships." Keeping the _Demonslayer_ finely tuned in the Delta Quadrant had consumed roughly half his captain's waking hours slipping needed items into supply convoys to the Sphere. Barring once or twice against the Vaadwaur battlecruisers, it'd been more trouble than it was worth.

"Well, all those retrofits through the fleet are paying off for us peons – though we've got something new that's been released to mass production – not as good as some of the adapted equipment, but we've got that new equipment the Alliance is rolling out," Ten'tita said happily.

"Oh, you got the new quantum phase equipment?" Thraak said. It'd been one of the many outgrowths of the desperate innovations at the Kremin facilities. Improved zero-point energy was going to do tremendous things, but for now, it was a bigger bang, with faster on-target projection and improved power flow.

"Yup – I know you guys are rolling it out too on your new production…. So guess which big Klingon science hotshot the captain picked to make sure it's behaving and doesn't accidentally scramble our computers?" Ten'tita finished with a big grin. Thraak growled a little deep in his throat.

* * *

Thraak had only been able to tell by the details on the hatch that he'd slipped from the station to the ship; the interior styling matched so closely – there was no usual feeling of a ship. The work had picked up a bit in intensity – crews carrying equipment pallets using anti-grav pallets or arguing over the results of tricorder scans and pointing at EPS conduits.

Most, however, stilled when seeing him go by, at least briefly. Discipline, to his approval, was tight enough that they ducked back to it even before he had a chance to let his gaze rest on them. The stares briefly were questioning, not challenging – he was unused to not having to defend himself, at least a little.

Ten'tita left after a while, stopping to gently go over some urgent bit of repair work at what looked like a processor subnode, giving directions to one of the working turbolift shafts in between showing the crew how best to use a polarizer.

The turbolift was smaller than on Klingon vessels – he supposed there was less expectation of moving marine squads around than was still a traditional requirement on Imperial ships. It moved with the usual Starfleet whisper-quietness of overly-precise machinery. He hoped he would get used to it before he woke up and grabbed emergency breathing gear by reflex.

The bridge, unlike the corridors, were nearly silent – but only two people were on the harbor watch at operations and security, with most of the stations dark. Both stood to salute – they seemed human, or close enough to Thraak.

"Hello Commander, welcome to the bridge of the _Mutara_ ," the taller of the two said. "I'm Lieutenant Dorsey." He was dressed in Starfleet's tactical uniform variant. "Captain Vexa was called to the port admiral's office but is not expected to be long delayed – she offered you use of the ready room to examine the ship's files in the meanwhile and any refreshments you needed."

"Thank you," he said, trying to memorize the faces. "Carry on." He stopped briefly, at what wasn't so much a 'console' as a 'fortification', with multiple standby and secondary displays. It was placed on the same side, from the captain's perspective, as the operations console operating on the back. He tapped his claws on it, "Would this be my station?"

"Yes sir, on bridge watch – Captain Vexa appointed you department head as well – Lieutenant Commander Yetkina used an office on deck 3, it's been temporarily reassigned to your care," Dorsey said.

Thraak barely heard 'department head', at first, he was still counting subprocessing nodes, and the resolution defaults were twice what he was used to. Having come up on raiders and battle cruisers following D'ellian's star, it was like four feast days at once seeing that sort of functionality. His head snapped around when it hit him.

"I thought the Captain had been looking for a sensor officer," Thraak said, "Science operations on a Klingon ship are… different, is my understanding. We only rarely carry research crews."

"If you call what they'd been doing research," the other lieutenant muttered – Dorsey made a shushing gesture.

"I'm sure the Captain prefers to explain herself, sir," Dorsey said more diplomatically.

* * *

The captain's office was still being moved into, apparently – several small statues of uncertain providence and artistry were situated near the desk, with several plinths scattered without lights being set yet. The chairs had been brought in – Thraak was not foolish enough to sit behind any captain's desk, and so he'd been reading the documentation on the ship's refit.

Given the Alliance, nothing was classified – most of the better systems had been either developed with the Empire or held no secrets – improved targeting for a nadion emitter array wasn't that different from a disruptor. Still, it was important to maintain the KDF's pride and his own, and be properly qualified.

He was rereading on the communication systems – perhaps the most important component for his personal mission, when the captain arrived. It took him a moment to realize – she had the rank pins and command-piping, but she didn't hold herself as Thraak had subconsciously come to expect from his long exposure to D'ellian.

Captain Vexa straightened after a moment, holding herself more like an unbarred knife than the opening posture she'd adopted… and Thraak remembered she was Betazoid, and as gentle as they seemed, they were one of the most powerful ranged telepathic species at picking up thoughts that hadn't collapsed into indolent self-reflection. Shocked, he managed a Starfleet salute.

"I'm sorry," Vexa said, relaxing again into a more neutral posture, "The surprise was just rolling off of you. Hello Commander, at ease." Thraak dropped the salute, and the Captain moved behind her desk, making motions that he should be seated.

"I try not to make it a habit of reading my crew's thoughts, Commander," she said, continuing, "One's mind should be their own whenever possible – emotions are a different concern, but empathy is a much more available skill than telepathy." She smiled briefly, "That's more a knack I can't turn off."

"The KDF makes heavy use of Lethean mercenaries," Thraak said stiffly, bringing his thoughts under control. It'd affected him more than he thought, to have it happen here, even gently. "We are familiar with telepathic defenses." He was building his quickly, and Vexa gave a sad smile.

"I am sorry," she said again, "And I really hoped to start this on the right foot – you're probably more qualified for the center chair out there than I am, Commander, and I'm very pleased to have gotten you as science officer, since you could probably teach me a few things. And I think seeing how the rest of the Alliance helps reaffirm the Khitomer Accords"

Vexa, Thraak recalled, was one of the many captains who'd been jumped up during the last phase of the war with the Federation. "About that," he rumbled, "I was told this would be a bridge position, but I wasn't expecting to take charge of your science department."

Vexa rubbed the bridge of her nose, "It's a matter of expedience, my science officer was absolutely brilliant – is absolutely brilliant – she's done some papers I'd recommend if they haven't been translated to Klingon journals yet, but she's no great administrator – even if it doesn't have our stamp on it, I'd much prefer to have her running an established department than building one."

"Any surviving staff?" Thraak said, concerned.

"A few," Vexa stopped rubbing her nose, "None in previous leadership roles – and since we can reestablish the combat stress rules I've furloughed most of those to research stations based on the counselor's recommendations. It's basically a new detachment." She looked straight at Thraak, "I realize what I'm asking would fast-track you in Starfleet, I don't know what it would do in the KDF, and if you'd prefer to be a bridge officer, I completely understand."

Or he could request another ship, Thraak noted she did not add - she was desperate to keep him. "I think the closest to my position on my previous ship was second officer – a chance to observe your personnel in such a non-combat setting is one of my goals for joining the liaison program." Also – a chance to train a bunch of scientists for ship duties couldn't hurt – D'ellian kept muttering about carriers in the way lesser men talked about owning land.

"Though if I may ask, Captain Vexa, even if it would be difficult, surely there was an easier way to get a science officer than the liaison program," Thraak continued, "Or even myself."

Vexa snapped up straighter, a bit guiltily. "I did actually ask specifically for one of the major warrior races that wasn't Imperial Klingon," she said. "I'm technically aristocracy myself, but it has no real meaning except cultural. Your species… and you specifically – are you familiar with the Federation's approach to caste systems?"

Thraak nodded, "They consider it an unacceptable diminishing of the individual and their aspirations, and have heavy doubts about what are, effectively, supporting breeding programs, especially among my people."

"That's putting it well," Vexa said neutrally, "We're familiar with the Klingon nobility here in Starfleet, but I hoped to help our understanding as the Empire becomes more… cosmopolitan. You caught my eye with your history of being shunted to minor assignments despite excellent marks, before suddenly rising to prominence after, of all things, a tour as prison guard in the prison within First City. Several people in that prison found their careers ended – why is locked by Starfleet Intelligence."

"I don't understand what point you are making. I owe much to the Dahar Master's success after she requested a transfer," Thraak said, gorge fluttering, making sure his thoughts were calm. Everything about that mission and its success in salvaging his honor was secret.

"Before you got a chance to serve as a combat science officer; your marks were poor at best – you found a way to fit in and still benefit your society – Klingon society is changing. For the sake of the Alliance, and the Federation, and maybe your government, understanding that direction is one of Starfleet's highest priorities," Vexa said solemnly.

Thraak couldn't help but find himself nodding, though he was wondering how so much of _that_ Klingon internal matter had been released to a mere captain. "Yes – the power blocs are consolidating – being prepared for the counter-reaction is in both our worlds' and their larger confederations' governments interests, naturally. The greatest self-interest is survival. I'll be happy to try and educate you, if you can tell me of your own 'aristocracy'."

Vexa smiled briefly, "Of course – though I also want your expertise as a science officer – you saw the mission precis?" Thraak nodded, "Our patrol region has two primary concerns – piracy after the war is at a very high level, of course, but our greater concern is smuggling."

"Smuggling on the Klingon-Federation border?" Thraak said dubiously, "In peacetime?" Even with patrols reduced, smuggling contraband was almost easier internally than cross-border… and far less was contraband with the vast Federation markets available to flood Klingon space.

"Depends what's being smuggled," Vexa replied automatically. "Specifically, with control lessened over recent, ah, acquisitions into the Klingon sphere, well-meaning private groups have been moving high-grade explosive and weaponry up to shuttle-scale to interested parties taking advantage of the reduced authority during the Iconian War. Your familiarity with the border region will be very handy."

 _That_ was politic. Thraak didn't laugh, but he was sure Vexa could pick up the blaze… and somehow, he suspected his old friend had been unable to resist some matchmaking while he was 'single'. "I'm sure I'll find these next six months very interesting," he said neutrally.

* * *

Uploaded this to as I plan to upload its sequel, 'Rearmament' soon.

Note Captain Vexa showed up before, slightly lowered rank, undergoing very rushed command training in 'Iterative Training'. Enough of it took, apparently, to survive the Iconian War.


End file.
